


Hound Cakes.

by Thrasirshall



Series: The ShinRa One Shots. [6]
Category: Before Crisis: Final Fantasy VII, Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Crisis Core: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Gen, birthday gift fanfic, need i say more, rufus attempts baking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-10
Updated: 2017-12-10
Packaged: 2019-02-12 20:04:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12967368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thrasirshall/pseuds/Thrasirshall
Summary: Having been sent on a mission during her birthday, Rufus attempts to make something for Cissnei.He finds being nice very powdery.A birthday gift-fic for Firenewt ~ !





	Hound Cakes.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [firenewt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/firenewt/gifts).



Rufus sucked in his lips, and started to question all of his life choices in that very moment. Before him were nine, solid rock-hard black balls of dough sitting in the metal tray that Rufus was now sure had fused like materia with his attempt at baking.  
A choking smell of burn hit his nose, and Rufus very quickly shut the oven door.  
  
_Two days earlier._  


It had been a rough mission, the air thick with silence in the Turk’s Department. Rufus rarely asked questions, because a report would be given to him once, well, the smoke had cleared, and broken bones had been set.  
The mission log itself had details of the Turks sent out, and even if Rufus knew them all individually - it was just … _weird_ how he hadn’t noticed Cissnei’s birthday until now.  
It didn’t help that she was sitting, or, rather, half swaying on the desk and verbally giving her report to Rude who patiently typed down everything simply due to the fact her arm was in a sling, and the other was quite heavily bandaged up. Rufus sat a little ways away, awaiting reports from Veld on other things, but remained respectfully silent.  
  
Under the red mess of hair was a bruised face, Cissnei’s rose gold eyes dull with tiredness, and a big white bandage almost comically over her nose.  
  
Reno had shared with Rufus how she actually had the day off for her birthday, but was called in last minute as backup to… well…. their other backup, before he was carted away.  
Six Turks total were hospitalised, and Cissnei was the only one standing.  
  
It was actually painful to look at her in such a state.  
  
“We can finish this up another time,” Rude suggested, quickly standing as she nearly slid off the desk.  
  
“No no, it’s fine, I’m all right.” she insisted, before finding a hand on her shoulder. Rufus had slid a computer chair over, ushering her to sit down properly.    
  
“Finish this, and then go home,” Rufus looked at Cissnei first, then Rude with a small smile, “That’s an order, all right?”  
  
The fact she hadn’t made any jibes, or even smiled _worried_ the two men, and as Cissnei delved into the more gruesome details of their dangerous mission, an understanding grew to why there wasn’t _much_ to smile about.  
  
“I think that will suffice.” Rufus declared finally after several minutes, and Rude stopped typing almost gratefully.  
  
“But, sir…” Cissnei started, before she just let a quiet sigh, “Yes sir.”

  
  
  
Lost in somber thought of that day - Rufus then suddenly remembered turning the oven off five minutes later might be a wise move, only making the smell of burnt cake that much worse.  
The Vice-President let a frustrated sigh, hands on his hips and surveying the small mess he’d made. Rufus wasn’t as bad as Reno or Rude when it came to hurricanes in the kitchen, and he’d cleaned as he baked. Still - there was a handprint of flour on the apron, a small smear of chocolate on his white lapel (how that even got there was _beyond_ him), and a trail of when he started, to the end fight with the mixer. His whites now had specks of cream on them- but he soon realised that there was also flour on the floor, and those were certainly _not_ his footprints.  
  
Following Dark Nation’s pawprints to the middle of the living room where she, to his dismay, had eaten an entire bag of chocolate chips. He was just grateful Guard Hounds weren’t allergic to chocolate as ordinary dogs, or he’d have to get her to a vet _alongside_ asking Rinoa to buy more ingredients!  
  
At least she hadn’t knocked the bottle of rum over, though Rufus started to wonder if sneaking a nip or two for himself wouldn’t hurt...  
  
Rinoa, his ever patient secretary, got what needed to be replaced (along with a new baking tray) and Rufus _almost_ took her up on the offer to help him out of sympathy.  
But, no, the best way to learn was by doing it.  
  
Ignoring the smile threatening at the corners of her lips, Rufus dismissed Rinoa away for the evening, and readjusted his sleeves.  
  
“Third time lucky.” he stated, facing the kitchen with determination.

  
  
She should’ve been in bed - by both doctor’s orders, and Veld’s - but Cissnei was stubborn. With a revised version of her report in a less bandaged hand now that the swelling had gone down, the Turk walked towards Rufus’ private in-tower apartment with the intention of giving it to him before he read the first, sloppy report.  
Knocking on the door with her foot, Cissnei then heard a small crash and a shout.  
  
Dropping her report, pulling out her gun (with difficulty) and jabbing the keycode in manually to override the lock, she shouldered the door open.  
  
“Sir?!” she called, only to see Dark Nation standing in the hallway, wagging her tentacle at the Turk. She was covered in flour.  
  
“Dark Nation! Come here _now!”_ Rufus shouted, and the hound suddenly bounded behind the Turk as Rufus came marching into the hallway, only to double-take at Cissnei’s sudden appearance.  
  
Cissnei stared. From head to toe, Rufus was covered in flour, cake batter on his hands and in a sticky line across his face.  
  
For the first time in two days, Cissnei smiled, before breaking into laughter that made her bruised chest hurt.

  
“How’d you know it was chocolate and rum I liked?” she asked, a half an hour later when all had been sheepishly explained. She was sitting on the couch, her report on the coffee table and a cup of tea cradled between her bandaged hands.  
Dark Nation lay near and licked chocolate off wrapping with the gentle rustle of plastic.  
  
“I asked Rude.” Rufus rolled his eyes at his damn hound, “I thought cupcakes would be easier to make, considering... well… hm.”  
He gestured to his still floured self, though the cake batter had since been washed off.  
  
Cissnei bit her lower lip, trying not to laugh again. He was already looking more embarrassed than she’d ever seen him. Standing up, Cissnei went to Rufus and slid a finger over his cheek, picking up some batter he’d missed, and took a taste.  
  
Surprise lit up on her face, lips smacking as she tasted.  
  
“Hey, you got the batter right at least!”  
  
  
There was no rest for the wicked as Cissnei was back in the office two weeks later, _well_ before when she was meant to return to work, but she figured - if she could type, she could work.  
Upon arriving at her desk however was a simple white cake box, though the luxurious red ribbon stated otherwise that this was from a high end bakery. Cissnei slid the little gold-trimmed note from under the ribbon.  
  
_Despite your guidance, I set the oven on fire. I think this is a little safer._  
_Happy belated birthday._  
_-V.P. Rufus ShinRa._  



End file.
